


Fool's Game

by TrantHeidelstam



Category: Disco Elysium (Video Game)
Genre: Angst, Dolorian Imagery, Hurt No Comfort, M/M, Mutual Pining, One Shot, Sexual Content, Smut, Spanking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-18
Updated: 2020-02-18
Packaged: 2021-02-27 23:01:09
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,094
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22783708
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TrantHeidelstam/pseuds/TrantHeidelstam
Summary: Love is a fool's game, it's better to stick to sex.ORKim and Jean have sex in the Kineema, and are angsty for the entire duration.
Relationships: Kim Kitsuragi/Jean Vicquemare
Comments: 5
Kudos: 30





	Fool's Game

**Author's Note:**

> Thank-you to everyone who provided feedback and suggestions while I was writing this!

KIM: "I believe it's my turn to drive the Kineema, detective."

Kim holds the keys out ready to drive the Kineema, but has been stalled by Jean blocking the doorway.

JEAN: "Fuck off Kimbo, you drove her yesterday."

KIM: "I spent an hour performing maintenance on her last night, which according to our rules makes it my turn to drive again, _Viccy_."

From the day Kim had joined Precinct 41 and became Jean's partner, bickering like this had become part of their daily routine. Not that Jean and Kim are bad partners: they're one of the most productive teams in the precinct, and adamantly refuse to change partners for a reason which eludes most of their coworkers.

JEAN: "Your endless bloody polishing doesn't count."

For a moment they glare at each other, before Jean rushes forwards in an attempt to snatch the keys. Kim tightens his fist around the keys before Jean can grab them, but Jean pushes in close and places his arms both sides of Kim, trapping Kim against the Kineema.

KIM: "This is ridiculous: we're lieutenants, our unprofessional behaviour will set an improper example to the other detectives."

JEAN: "Because this garage is jam-packed, isn't it?"

The room is empty; Jean and Kim have stayed late working on a narcotics case, so everyone else has already gone home for the day.

KIM: "Even so-"

JEAN: "Piss off with your professional posturing, Kitsuragi, I know what you're like behind closed doors."

An authoritative eyebrow is raised.

KIM: "I have no idea what you're talking about."

Translation: We agreed not to talk about that.

JEAN: "Oh? If you've forgotten I can give you a demonstration."

Before Kim can offer token protests Jean's lips are against his, and Kim welcomes it like he always does. It’s not long before Kim wraps a hand around Jean's neck, fervently pulling him into a breathless kiss; Kim’s other hand stays clenched around the keys. Predictably, Jean wraps a hand over Kim’s fist, although Jean’s hand simply rests atop Kim’s rather than trying to pry the keys out. Their intimacy is always wrapped in such performance, as if they’re aiming to convince an audience that they don’t actually care for each other - the only people present to be fooled are themselves. Even in the pause where their lips break, doing naught but exchanging breaths, they are both convinced that the other’s lungs don’t glow as their own do. Thus they smother these tender moments rather than dwelling in them as they wish to; an abrupt whimper from Kim breaks the lull, as Jean caresses where thigh meets groin, where he _knows_ Kim is sensitive.

JEAN: “What an inappropriate noise for a Lieutenant to make.”

KIM: “Khm… you must be hearing things.”

Their eyes meet, Kim silently daring Jean to prove him wrong. Not wanting to back down from a challenge - especially not one from Kim - Jean leans in to run kisses along Kim’s neck while his hand skirts under the lip of Kim’s underwear. Wherever Jean touches pleasure uncoils within Kim, and he grips Jean’s hair as if to hold onto his diminishing control. Kim’s breaths stutter, yet no moans escape: Kim’s using all his focus to stifle them, desperate to be pursued by Jean who would _surely_ deny him in a romantic context. Jean, craving an excuse to lavish Kim who would _surely_ deny him in a romantic context, uses the challenge as an excuse to defile Kim’s neck, bruises beginning to form.

KIM: “You’d better not leave a-ah mark...”

JEAN: “You’d like that though, wouldn’t you? To have nothing but a flimsy collar hiding your lewd behaviour.”

Kim would, but he’s run out of high-necked shirts due to “contests” earlier in the week. Mercifully, Jean’s hand slips lower to caress Kim’s cock, and Kim relents with needy moans as his lower half ignites.

JEAN: “You’re going to disgrace the RCM with those scandalous moans, _Lieutenant_ ”

KIM: “Mmm, I believe I should be reprimanded.”

JEAN: “Remind me, what’s the appropriate punishment?”

It’s a genuine question, insofar as Jean wants to be certain of what Kim wants before rushing further into the act. 

KIM: “The officially suggested disciplinary action is positioning me against the Kineema and spanking me.”

The way Kim asks to be spanked so casually sucks the air right out of Jean - _Dolores Dei_ is it hot, yet underneath the heat is a cool reminder that Kim isn’t emotionally affected by this arrangement, that Kim’s merely fulfilling his primal needs. If all Jean can provide is carnal pleasure then he’s at least determined to provide that better than anyone else can, lest Kim tire of him and find another playmate. Jean tilts his head to whisper in Kim’s ear, shifting his voice to bass tones to match the way his fingers shift along the base of Kim’s cock.

JEAN: “I think you can be a little more specific than that, lieutenant. What’s the recommended number of strikes? Exactly how much pressure am I supposed to apply?”

KIM: “It’s up to administerer to decide what’s appropriate.”

JEAN: “Sounds like you forgot the specific protocol, lieu-”

KIM: “It sounds like you’re stalling. You’re not too scared to discipline me, are you, detective?”

That’s all the goading Jean needs to flip Kim’s svelte frame over, laying Kim against the Kineema’s car door. Less careful is the way Jean yanks Kim’s trousers down, eager to gaze at the derriere he never gets tired. Jean runs a reassuring hand over Kim’s cheek, his touch lingering for as long as Jean believes it can without revealing that what he truly longs for is to hold Kim tenderly... Then Jean snaps to focus on the reality of his relationship with Kim, swifty bringing his hand against Kim’s bare ass. Kim vocalises a sharp yelp, relishing the sting before it subsides into a different kind of pain: every hit draws Kim into a wave of bliss, only to be followed by the depths of his pining. One day Kim thinks he may drown and be eternally condemned to the mourning fields, yet he cannot resist this torturous voyage. Scarlet spreads across Kim’s ass, and his desire spreads faster, until the pain’s too much to bear. Even if Kim has no hope for taking Jean’s breath away, he can still leave Jean breathless.

KIM: “ _Vic_ , get off me so I can get on you already.”

Jean has barely lowered his hand before Kim opens the Kineema door and is shoving Jean onto the seat. How Kim manages to be so dextrous with his pants around his ankles Jean will never understand, but merde does he love it - _merde,_ does he love Kim. Thankfully Jean is unable to linger on that particular rumination, as all of his blood is redirected from his head to his second head when Kim crawls into his lap like a hungry panthera. As Kim reaches over Jean to pull lube out from the glove compartment, Jean finds himself paralysed by the familiar scent of cheap chypre cologne layered over nicotine and oil; it evokes memories of cigarette breaks together on the precinct’s cramped balcony, half-hearted complaints whenever Kim leaned over him to inspect evidence, and car chases where tight turns jolted him against Kim. It’s so distinctly _Kim_ that Jean wishes he could he could breathe nothing but that smell for the rest of his life. As easily as he induced it, Kim breaks Jean from his lovestruck stupor; the way Kim sighs contentedly as he slips slickened fingers inside himself draws Jean back into action. Jean reaches for the lube to assist, but Kim shifts his knee to block Jean’s hand.

KIM: “Wouldn’t you prefer to take care of yourself, Vic?”

Jean follows Kim's gaze down to the tent in Jean’s pants. His cock aches to be released, but not as much as his lungs ache for Kim; of course, Jean offers a different excuse for ignoring his own need, continuing the masquerade.

JEAN: “Instead of extracting more cries of debauchery from you? You’re not winning that easily, Kitsuragi.”

There’s little Kim can do to stop Jean from taking the lube, given that one arm is currently occupied propping himself up while the other… Kim’s fingers push deeper, his yearning at a breaking point after being with Jean all day. The way Jean’s bad cop performance perfectly complemented Kim’s good cop during interviews, the snarky comments Jean made about juvenile trouble-makers knowing how they annoy Kim, the passionate debate they had over lunch about motor carriage upgrades, all of it just served as a reminder as to how much Kim lo- _wants_ Jean. _Wants_ , that’s a nebulous word, one that doesn’t require Kim to address his feelings; when Jean eases in a finger alongside Kim’s own, Kim can pretend that it's purely physical _wants_ being satisfied. But then Jean’s finger rubs up against _that_ spot, and a heavenly heat erupts through Kim that threatens to incinerate his delusions. Kim withdraws his fingers, as if they were burnt by the prospect of unravelling before Jean, but there is no escape: Jean replaces Kim’s fingers with more of his own, and Kim can’t help but cant against Jean's fingers. Kim's body quivers with every movement, and Kim can feel his voice is dangerously close to becoming a direct stream of his consciousness as he mewls helplessly in ecstasy.

KIM: "Please, let me ride you- let me ride your cock... fuck me already, _Jean.”_

Hearing that elicits a strangled noise from Jean: it’s not often that Jean gets to hear Kim beg, it’s rarer still for Kim to use Jean’s first name. Jean would do literally anything to hear Kim say his name again in that wanton voice, so in a heartbeat Jean fingers are removed and his trousers unzipped. Recognising Jean's enthusiasm, Kim pushes Jean down as he positions himself above in an attempt take charge again: perhaps if he can distract Jean with breathtaking sex then Jean won’t notice Kim’s scanitily clad affections. When Kim sinks down onto Jean’s heat elation bursts through Jean, his shunned need finally addressed. An exhilarating pressure spreads from the splayed hand Kim has on Jean’s chest, crushing Jean with a rapture which threatens to suffocate him. Every lurch evokes ragged gasps from Jean, yet he remains breathless because this isn’t the sort of intimacy he actually desires. Every rock brings Kim closer to the base of Jean’s cock, closer to spilling over, yet maddeningly no closer to having Jean’s lo-... lo-... damn, Kim’s too overwhelmed to deny that he wants Jean to return his _love_. Seeking escape from his languish, Kim strokes himself against the rhythm of his rolling hips, but the additional pressure seems to spark his treacherous lungs to life once more.

KIM: “Ah, I want... feels so full, _Jean_ … mmm, but I... closer _Jean_ , I want to be...”

The tightness surrounding Jean’s cock, the divine view of Kim rubbing himself off, Kim’s broken cries of Jean’s name: all of it layers into an overwhelming euphoria that gushes forth from Jean’s cock. Feeling Jean’s hot release inside him, Kim sinks to his lowest depths, his fervour breaking free from his body. For a gracious second they both find solace in orgasmic bliss, struggling to stay still as to not shatter the transient peace that has staunched their bleeding lungs. But the still is broken by their deprived panting, the pain of forlorn passion permeating any prickles of pleasure until it's perverted into regret. Being so close has only accentuated their distance, so Kim slides off to break their bittersweet connection - no relief follows, just a marked emptiness. To cope with his desolation, Kim recovers his formal facade from the deluge of his mind, wiping up their mess with clinical touches. Afterall, Kim thinks, the only thing that could be worse than experiencing this wretched love would be making a fool out of himself by confessing it to Jean.

KIM: “...I’m going to drive the Kineema, detective.”

No matter how many times this process repeats, Jean always mourns how Kim reverts to his professional persona without pause to even catch his breath, only for Jean to remind himself that this is what he deserves. Jean has no hope for his relationship with Kim ever changing: he isn’t a fool, he’s a bastard, and this is his punishment for being a bastard who dares to love.

JEAN: “Sure, Kitsuragi. But tomorrow it’s my turn for real.”

Shortly after, the Kineema chokes to life; the detectives inside don’t find it so easy to keep on breathing.

**Author's Note:**

> Critique is welcomed.


End file.
